


Masquerade.

by theweakestthing



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5123258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had a dream where you and I were rivals, you scratched my palm and I bit the hand that you offered me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Opulent gold, deep reds and pure whites, Yata was uncomfortable to say the least. This was the nicest place he’d ever been in and he was oh so very conscious of himself. He wasn’t even the one that had been invited to the party, Kusanagi had sounded bored when he’d handed the invitation over to Yata. Saying that it would be more up his isle, being there he really didn’t know what the other had meant. He tried to calm himself with the fact that no one knew who he was since he and everyone else were wearing masks, but it didn’t help much. At least his mask was cool, the style was of an ornate crow and just the thought of it had him grinning again.

Walking through the large hall, everything seemed to tower above him and it hadn’t slipped by him that he was the shortest person there. The height of the ceiling made his knees feel weak, but it was also kind of thrilling, at least he’d have the upper hand against everyone since he had such a low centre of gravity.

“Didn’t know they were letting children in,” tall, slender and wearing a very dark blue that could almost be called navy.

Yata just sighed and turned to ignore whoever they were in favour of getting himself a drink, he was there to enjoy himself after a rather long week and he wasn’t about to let some lanky prick ruin the evening for him.

However, the man appeared to follow him, standing next to him beside the bar.

“Ignorance is rude you know?” the man smirked and Yata sighed again, he was bone achingly bored of this kind of stunted conversation.

“So was the comment you made, but I let that slide,” he mumbled, leaning his elbows on the bar, it wasn’t sticky like the one back at Homra.

“No, you punished me with your silence,” the man replied and the entitlement in that voice really rubbed up all the wrong way.

“Yeah, well you deserve it,” Yata said, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the agitation from his voice.

“I suppose I might,” the man said with a stiff smile, lips pulled back.

“Really?” Yata turned to the other, lip curled incredulously.

“That’s the closest thing to an apology you’re gonna get,” the man said and Yata couldn’t help but laugh at that, it reminded him of the Fushimi that he knew back in middle school.

“That’s fine by me,” he said smiling up at the man and the other chewed on their lip, Yata wanted to see if there was something happening to the other’s cheeks but their mask covered that area. Tilting his head up toward the corner of the man’s mask, but all he could see was darkness.

“Are you trying to cheat?” The man asked.

“Huh? Um, sort of,” Yata conceded moving back slightly.

“That’d ruin all the fun.”

“What fun? Anonymously harassing people?” Yata asked, brows furrowed but the other couldn’t see that.

“Something like that,” the man smirked.

“Gross,” Yata replied, looking back at the bar trying to spy the staff.

“What’s gross about it?” The man asked tilting his head.

“Awfully close to sexual harassment, you’re kind of predatory,” Yata said and he wouldn’t have said that without the mask, he knew that, it was giving him a kind of cool and quiet confidence that he could probably do with in his everyday life. 

“I-I,” the man closed his mouth and Yata had never felt more powerful, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made someone stutter. “I didn’t mean to come off like that,” the man said finally.

“If you say so,” Yata said shrugging.

“Can we start again, I think I’m not coming off as well as I would like and everyone else here seems to be more interested in getting blind drunk and dancing,” the man said, lips moving tightly.

“I might be getting drunk if I could get a drink,” Yata said, leaning the side of his head against the bar in a gesture of defeat. The man shot his arm out, leaning over the bar and suddenly there was a drink in front of Yata. “How do you do that?” He said with awe.

“Rudeness can be helpful sometimes,” the man shrugged, but the motion was contained like he was embarrassed and didn’t want Yata to make a big deal out of it.

“If you say so,” Yata said again, taking a sip of the drink.

“So, er, how’d you get invited?” The man asked awkwardly, moving away from the bar.

“My friend was actually the one invited, but they didn’t want to go, something about it being boring and said it would be more my kind of thing,” he muttered, following the man.

“And is it?”

“Er, it’s not my usual thing really, but I guess I like it, I mean it’s like playing an rpg,” Yata said smiling.

“How so?” The man asked, tilting his head down toward Yata.

“Well, you’re yourself but not, you can be better and different to how you normally are,” he explained and the more he spoke the more conviction seeped out of his voice, “that sounded dumb,” he said, slouching.

“No, I understood it,” the man said softly, “don’t slouch, you don’t need to get any shorter.”

Yata groaned, the guy reminded him of Fushimi and not at the same time, irritating jabs were there but they seemed genuinely interested in what Yata had to say and that was something that Fushimi had almost never pulled off.

Standing up straight, he noticed they were heading toward a window, the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly.

“Hah,” Yata said humourlessly, “you do realise I get short person jokes all day every day?”

The man simply shrugged and looked up out the window, Yata couldn’t help but stare at the stranger’s pale throat.

“Stars are pretty sentimental, don’t you think?” The man commented.

“How so?” Yata asked hoping that he didn’t sound as absolutely clueless as he felt.

“Well, they’re so far away that some of them are probably already dead but we can still see the light they shone years ago, like holding onto a memory,” the man elaborated and Yata figured that he’d never have gotten that from the other’s former statement alone.

Yata didn’t know what to say, it left him kind of awestruck but he didn’t want to say that. He said the other thing that came to mind.

“You remind me of someone I know,” he said and it sounded odd to his ear, he felt awkward in the aftermath of it.

“Yeah?” The man tilted his head again.

“But, you’re more honest than him or something like that,” Yata said looking down at his feet.

“You should get them a mask, it makes conversation more easy,” he said, tapping the mask.

“Eh, I don’t think he’d be up for that, he sort of hates me I guess,” Yata pressed his fingers to the cold glass of the window.

“Maybe they don’t and they just don’t know how to…” the man’s voice trailed off, “I don’t, they’re just probably bad at telling people how they feel or something maybe,” he waved his hand around a bit.

“You don’t sound very convinced of that,” Yata said, top lip curled up.

“I just said I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” the man pouted as he spoke.

“Me neither really,” Yata smiled, “are you blushing?”

“Shut up,” the man said poking his tongue out and Yata laughed again, he hadn’t laughed like that in a while. “Don’t do that,” the man said.

“W-why?” Yata stammered, feeling cowed by the way the other was looking at him so intensely.

“I just might have to kiss you if you keep it up,” the man loomed over him, hands almost on him.

“My mask’ll get in the way,” was all Yata could think to say and the man laughed, it was a small snickering sound.

“We’ll just have to find the right angle,” the man smiled, leaning down toward Yata and tilting his head.

Suddenly there was a bright light and the pair of them jumped back from the window in a flash, armed people in uniform flew through the windows and Yata figured as much. This must have been what Kusanagi meant and thought that Yata would prefer to be part of the fight, Kusanagi wasn’t wrong but it’d been a really long time since he’d last been kissed and he was already frustrated enough as it was.

It turned into a blur of crushing skulls and it didn’t take long for the fight to clear, Yata was left red aura and all. There was a blue light coming from his right and Yata knew it before he really turned his head, that aura flowed from the other’s body. And he felt like jumping out the window because honestly he should have known from the start, Fushimi was probably toying with him.

Fushimi hadn’t seen him though and Yata slipped out unseen, he took the train home holding the mask between his fingers.

Days later, back to their usual routine and by that he meant that he’d run into Fushimi in the street. And Yata was tired and angry at the sight of the other, he never really wanted to fight the other but Fushimi had a funny way of provoking him into a rage.

This time was different though, for one Fushimi was genuinely smiling.

“What’s with that creepy look on your face?” Yata barked, face all screwed up as he spoke.

“Creepy?” Fushimi laughed, “not even you can spoil my good mood small fry.”

“Oh yeah of course,” Yata said sarcastically, “what happened then?” He asked hoping to catch the other out.

“As if I’d tell you,” Fushimi continued to smile as he walked off.

Yata just stood there, dumbstruck. Did Fushimi really not know?


	2. Chapter 2

Yata returned to Homra, he’d walked back skateboard under his arm and considered the fact that Fushimi didn’t know a single thing. And it was a fact, right? If Fushimi had known then the other would have said something, Fushimi wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to humiliate Yata, never had. So the only logical conclusion that he could come to was that Fushimi had no idea that it had been him that night, that they’d been about to kiss and Yata had to groan at that.

Kissing Fushimi, heh, at least he’d dodged that bullet. He couldn’t being to imagine what that would have been like, actually kissing that monkey. To have their lips touch, breaths sweeping over his skin, the thought made his skin crawl.

“You never did tell me about that party Yata-kun, how did it go?” Kusanagi asked, tilting his head.

Yata simply shrugged and climbed the stool, still considering things. Was that really how Fushimi acted toward a stranger? Fushimi was kinda to a complete and total stranger that happened to be Yata’s height, than he’d ever been to anyone that he knew to Yata’s knowledge, wasn’t that weird?

Kusanagi hit him over the head with a flannel and Yata barked back, hand on his head despite the fact that it hadn’t even hurt.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Kusanagi warned.

“What?” Yata whined.

“Thinking too hard,” Kusanagi tapped his head and Yata groaned.

This really threw him for a turn though and for the rest of that month he couldn’t get it out of his mind, but Fushimi’s good mood didn’t last and he happened upon the other much as he always did. And Fushimi provoked him as easily as ever, which pushed Yata to wonder how on earth this was the same person as the one he’d met that night.

Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it really wasn’t Fushimi at all. Who knew what put that freak in a good mood, it could have been anything. Maybe it was a different member of Sceptre 4 and that was a wholly different kind horror onto itself, the idea gave him shivers. At least Fushimi had been one of them once, at least Fushimi had felt something for him once.

Back in the bar, Kusanagi waved a decorative envelope at his face and Yata tried not to sneer at it. He took though, despite himself, but it was only because he just had to know, just had to find out what was going on.

That night started with the hosts apologising for the events of the last party and assured that it would not happen again, Yata zoned out about half way through and was just about ready to nod off when someone brushed against him.

“Huh?” Yata murmured looking up at whoever it was, of course it was the man from the last party and Yata would even think Fushimi’s name in relation to the man. Either out of denial or hope, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Ah, so it is you,” the man smiled down at him gently, “where’d you get to last time, I couldn’t find you after the fight, did you lose interest in me that quickly?” The man tilted his head.

“I just didn’t want to get caught up in the fight,” Yata said simply, it was so much easier to stay calm behind a mask.

“That’s so very unlike the person you reminded me of, well the only thing you share is height,” the man shrugged considering his words.

“Well, if we’re so different then stop comparing,” Yata said and he really didn’t know why, but the thought of Fushimi liking a different version of him than the one that felt most like himself made him itch. There wasn’t really a subtle way to discern whether or not that it was really Fushimi under there, the only scar that he knew the other had was the one on Fushimi collar and he didn’t feel like ripping this person’s shirt open. They just gave off this slight feeling of Fushimi, the same kind of atmosphere, it used to thrill Yata but now it made his skin crawl.

“I suppose you’re right,” the man said, clicking in tongue and Yata had to suppress a shudder at the sound.

“I’m either right or wrong, there’s no suppose about it,” he turned his anger to speech instead of action, it was unearthly irritating that the extent of his eloquence came mostly from copying Fushimi’s answers in middle school.

The man smiled sharply down at him and that easy rage turned electric under Yata’s skin.

“You’re right,” the man said and the hosts began the party as he finished speaking, “so shall we continue from where we left off?” Head tilting again.

“I don’t think so,” Yata shook his head lightly.

“And may I ask why?”

“I considered,” a fancy word for thought in Yata’s books, “and came to the conclusion that kissing strangers is not something I want to be doing,” he grabbed a drink from the passing waiter and took a sip, the taste was foul but he liked the kick.

The man pursed his lips before he spoke again, it was a kind of petulant expression and Yata hated the way he found it endearing.

“I hate to repeat myself but you’re not giving me much of an option, so why?”

“Everyone here is pretending to be someone else or at least a better version of themselves, even me,” Yata spoke honestly, “I’m not usually this well spoken or this calm, but then again I have a problem holding myself back, I’m probably stupidly honest,” he laughed at that, laughed at himself because it had been that part of himself, the way that he just laid himself bare for everyone to see that had allowed Fushimi to hurt him so deeply. Sometimes he thought that it was really brave of him to continue to be the same way after it and other’s he considered himself an idiot for it, but there was nothing that he could do about it, it was just the way he was.

“Then you’re still being yourself, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” the man said, frowning.

“No, that just means that I’ve got everything to worry about, if I’m the only person here who’s being themselves then am open to being hurt,” Yata said, it was as simple as that and it was something that he’d always been afraid of. It’d all blown back in his face so spectacularly twice, first at middle school when all of his friends had turned on him and again when Fushimi had betrayed him. And still he stood fully exposed for anyone that wanted to reach inside, he felt pathetic at the thought.

“That’s what I think too and that’s why I hardly ever say anything honest, but this,” and the man tapped the mask he was wearing as he spoke, “it gives me the ability to be honest,” he didn’t smile as he spoke, face as flat as stone. “Why don’t you try the inverse, why don’t you try lying?” The man said as though it was as easy as that.

“I’m just not like that,” Yata said and he finished his drink, he didn’t know what to do with the glass and he stared at it for a moment. The man took it from his fingers, the other’s fingers grazing over his own in the motion and it made Yata wonder how long it had been since someone had touched him with a gentle intent. His own answer saddened him.

“If you’re so afraid of getting hurt then why are you here? I mean it’s probably the worst place for it since we’re all lying,” the man said condescendingly, placing the glass onto the tray of another passing waiter.

“Because I am just that stupid, I am just so eager to connect to anyone, to find anyone to hold onto that I’ll walk blindly into danger dressed as a friend, I am just that sad and pathetic,” Yata said, echoing the words that Fushimi often spat so calmly during their fights, it was a wonder that he wasn’t shaking with whatever was rushing through him in that moment.

“I-I don’t think that’s true,” the man said, but so faintly that Yata wondered who he was saying it for.

“It’s true, believe me,” Yata assured with all the confidence within his small frame.

There was a long moment of silence where they just vaguely stared at each other, Yata watched the man chew on his words.

“I only once made a promise that I really believed in,” the man said after a time and somehow Yata thought that he somehow knew that this was what the other was going to say. “and I was the one that broke it because I was afraid, I figure that you’re not the type to break promises.”

“Never,” Yata said, knowing that the other’s words had merely been a statement but he couldn’t help but assert his loyalty, assure the gravity of his words and at that the man smiled somewhat fondly but it appeared kind of sad somehow.

“So, you’re the kind that couldn’t possibly understand why someone would break a promise or do something that you wouldn’t?”

Yata knew that this was a test, felt the analytical gaze that bore down at him.

“I am aware that not everyone is like me,” Yata said slowly.

“Are the people that break promises bad people?”

Loaded questions and Yata really hated these kinds of games, the kind that were all about words drenched in subtext and adjacent meanings. It reminded him of the way that Fushimi spoke, all fucking smoke and mirrors, it was deplorable.

“No, obviously, it’s the same as saying not all criminals are bad people. Good people are capable of doing bad things,” Yata stated, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

“What would you do if someone very dear to you broke a promise?”

“I would forgive them,” Yata had said instantly and without thinking and without doubt, Fushimi easily came to mind there and he always was so ready to forgive the other if Fushimi would just tell him why.

“Just like that?” The man did not sound convinced.

“If they’re so dear to me there’s nothing they could do stop me from accepting them,” Yata said, conviction still strong in his voice. And it was true, if Fushimi just gave him a chance he would have.

“So what happened to make you so afraid of letting people in?” The man asked, neck twisting like he was wringing the pain from between Yata’s lips, but that wasn’t exactly hard that particular pain sat heavy in his heart and on the tip of Yata’s tongue.

“The person I held dearest betrayed me,” Yata said simply, watching the man’s expression for any signs of change, for anything that would tell him that it was in fact Fushimi but nothing much happened at all.

“And have you forgiven them?” The man asked, voice drenched in intrigue.

“They haven’t given me the chance,” Yata said, almost grinding it out and trying not to sound so stilted.

“What does that mean?” The man asked, evidently confused from the expression on his face.

“Have you ever slammed your head against a brick wall?” Yata asked and the sudden odd question startled the man a little.

“N-no, what does th-”

“That’s what it’s like, trying to get through to someone that just won’t listen to you, won’t answer your questions. That’s what it’s like when someone expects you to know everything about them, expects you to read their mind and figure everything out for yourself. It’s like slamming your face against a brick wall, you don’t get anything from it but pain,” and by the end of it Yata found himself baring his teeth, he promptly closed his mouth and looked around for another waiter to steal a drink from.

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” the man said, sounding far off and thoughtful.

“Then you’ve never really cared about anyone that hurt you,” Yata said like he knew even though he didn’t.

“That’s not true,” the man said and the sound was so quiet, voice so faint that Yata instantly wanted to leave that as soon as he possibly could.

“It probably isn’t, but that’s just how I feel,” Yata shrugged, tone soft.

And then the man’s arms were around his shoulders, Yata had tilted his head back to speak but had been silenced by the other’s lips. In a moment Yata pushed the other off of him and stalked toward the exit, even if this person wasn’t Fushimi Yata was sure that he didn’t want to know someone who thought like the other did.


	3. Chapter 3

Yata sat fuming in his apartment, fists shaking over his knees and the tv bathed him in stark light. He hated himself more than the person that had kissed him, they were leading there from the beginning and Yata would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. At first he was just simply shocked at the other’s audacity, it had to be Fushimi he was certain, it was exactly the kind of thing that he expected from the other. After that though, he was frustrated with himself for liking it, even more frustrated by the way he wanted more.

It seemed odd though and painful too, that Fushimi would be like this with someone, that the other would like someone who was almost exactly like him. It confused him to no end, he genuinely thought Fushimi hated him, how could he not when he considered everything that had transpired between them.

Fingers flattening the feathers of his mask, Yata figured that it wouldn’t hurt to see where this went.

Weeks passed by before he saw Fushimi again, dressed in blue and walking through the park that Yata was sat in. Eating lunch on a bench that face the pond, he watched the other from far off and pretended that he wasn’t when they drew closer. Honestly he didn’t want to see Fushimi, not out here like this, not without their masks.

Much to his surprise, Fushimi just walked by him without a word, as though they didn’t know each other, as though they were strangers. And Yata figured that it was that that hurt the most.

He’d rather have Fushimi hate him, want him dead, than have the other be completely indifferent to him. He didn’t want them to be strangers again, he wanted to always have something of Fushimi to hold onto. How selfish was that?

The night of the next party, Yata held his invitation in his sweaty and stood outside the entrance. His mask felt heavy that night and something like shame or guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. What was he hoping would happen, exactly? For Fushimi to fall on those slender knees in front of him, declare undying love? The thought was laughable really, he’d thought about it in middle school, thought about saying something about his feelings to the other and even then he’d decided against it. Even way back then he’d known that Fushimi would never be forth coming with something like that, that they just couldn’t be like that.

“Somehow I knew you’d come back.”

Yata spun on his heels to find the other behind him, no mask, and it was most definitely Fushimi.

“Y-you can’t go in without your mask,” Yata said, cursing himself at how dumb he sounded.

“I was hoping that we could talk, somewhere where I could see your face,” Fushimi muttered, staring down at the ground and it was hard to hear him over the sounds filtering out of the building behind them.

“I-I don’t think-”

“Misaki don’t act like,” Fushimi sighed and Yata froze waiting for him to continue, “don’ t like we didn’t know from the start,” he said finally looking up at the other.

Yata didn’t know what to say, he simply pulled the mask from his face and he stared up at the other. Standing firmly, it was about all he could do.

“If I’m honest with you would you lie to me?” Fushimi asked, sounding sullen.

“No,” Yata said easily because he just knew he couldn’t, “I can’t lie, especially to you,” admitting that was embarrassing but he didn’t care in that moment, he wouldn’t shy away from whatever was happening between them.

“Typical,” Fushimi grumbled and took Yata’s wrist, yanked the other away into the night. And Yata followed like he always had, they walked down the dark streets in silence until Yata decided that it was enough and something needed to change.

“Stop a sec,” Yata urged, digging his heels in to pull Fushimi backward. And the other made that terrible tongue clicking noise, sometimes it had been endearing other times it was it irritating and mostly it drove him right up the wall. “What, I’m not doing exactly what you want? Why is it always a struggle with you?” He barked.

“Oh, am I not doing exactly what you want?” Fushimi asked tilting his head, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yata swallowed, it had always been some kind of hard, a constant struggle to hold the other close enough to him to satisfy the pair of them. He gave his reply by sliding his hand into Fushimi’s whilst staring up at the other, he definitely felt the squeeze of his hand but he wouldn’t remark on it.

“That’s the way the world is Saru,” he said, firm but reassuring as he watched they way that Fushimi stared down at him.

“I know,” Fushimi murmured like the words were too heavy for him to hold.

“Then stop fighting me and I’ll stop fighting you,” Yata said, stepping closer to the other.

“It really isn’t that easy,” Fushimi replied quickly, Yata knew that the whole world seemed like some tediously difficult task that Fushimi had to endure.

“I know, but it’s a start right? Like something we can conquer together,” he said with a smile.

“It won’t ever be like the old days,” Fushimi said firmly, as though he was frightened that it was what Yata was looking for.

“I don’t want that, I don’t want that at all,” Yata said shaking his head as he spoke, “I want something different and I really don’t want it to be us against everything, I want it to be us in the middle of everything,” he finished, breathing deeply as he watched Fushimi chew on that.

“I suppose that’s ok,” Fushimi said softly, almost to himself, and turned to drag Yata down the road some more.

Yata followed again, it was something new and something different with someone he’d hoped to never lose.

“You kissed me,” he chimed teasingly, skipping beside the other.

“Yeah,” Fushimi sighed.

“And you knew it was me,” Yata continued, heat rising to his face as he remembered that they weren’t wearing masks anymore.

“Yeah,” Fushimi said, this time he was smiling and that just made Yata blush more.

“You’re gross,” Yata said, poking his tongue.

“You’re childish,” Fushimi returned, sliding his fingers between Yata’s.

“You know, I sort of always wanted to kiss you,” Yata mumbled, scratching the side of his cheek as he spoke, staring at the floor and blushing furiously at his shoes.

“Then why didn’t you?” Fushimi asked, not sounding surprised but just taking the fact in his stride.

“I thought it was a bad idea, anyway can you even imagine middle school me asking to kiss you or something?” Yata stammered out, free hand waving around. “I mean I still have trouble talking to girls and like I can’t even look at you right now,” he admitted the obvious.

“Yeah, I can just imagine it now, middle school Misaki falling apart and blushing crimson as he asks me to kiss him,” Fushimi said, sounding very much like he was enjoying that thought.

“And what would middle school Saru have done, eh?” Yata tilted his head up toward the other, wondering if his hand was getting sweaty nervous that Fushimi would let go at any moment.

“He might have acted like it was no big deal or he might have teased you, but he would have been freaking out underneath it all,” Fushimi said and this time it was his turn to break eye contact, he just stared forward staring off into the distance.

“Why?” Yata found himself saying without really meaning to.

“Because I’ve always liked you as much as you’ve liked me Misaki,” Fushimi said with a sense of finality and firmness, there’d be nothing more said on the subject and Yata knew that much.

“Okay,” Yata said simply and it was odd, it was so easy that they were suddenly like this, how swiftly they’d fallen back together again. Reform and evolved, not the same but similar. Then again it really hadn’t been easy at all, it had taken years absolutely torturous years of fighting and pain and resentment and all sorts of thing that Yata didn’t want to ever feel toward Fushimi again. In all honesty it had been one of the hardest things that he had to endure, he was unearthly thankful that that chapter was over.

“Where do you wanna go?” Fushimi asked after a long moment of silence.

“Somewhere new,” Yata answered and he watched Fushimi smile down at him at that.

They walked upon a bridge that neither of them could recognise and they stopped on the middle of it, braced elbows against the guard rail and watched the moonlight dance upon the water.

“You know, somewhere new sounds dangerously like purposefully getting lost,” Fushimi commented, “which I don’t really mind,” he added.

“It’s nice to be lost sometimes, makes the world feel wider,” Yata said, holding his arms out wide.

“I never thought I’d be having this kind of conversation with you,” Fushimi said with an odd kind of chuckle.

“I’ve got more depth than you can imagine,” Yata said smirking.

“I’m far more shallow than you can even consider a human being capable of,” Fushimi returned, sullen again as he stared forward.

Yata took a deep breath then, steadying himself before he moved, fast and clumsy. Hands reached for Fushimi’s face, turned it toward him and pressed their faces together hard. Mouths sloppily connected, teeth clashing and their tongues collided.

“Amateur,” Fushimi commented, breathing heavy against the corner of Yata’s mouth.

“You’re no better,” Yata said, allowing the blush to rule his body.

And with that Fushimi surged forward again, lips better connected and their technique only marginally improved. Fingers sliding through hair, bodies drawing closer together.

“You’re not wearing a hat,” Fushimi murmured into the kiss, unwilling to pull apart.

“You’re just noticing,” Yata groaned and really it didn’t matter, didn’t matter at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey, thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. I know it was short but I am still writing my other super long (for me) fic called Eclipse check it out!!


End file.
